Autobot Boot Camp
by SilverRayan
Summary: Sometimes the best gifts are given to you by your enemies. Normally they don't even realize what they are throwing away TFA AU in which Shockwave attends boot camp with Optimus. The bunny was harvested from dreamerchaos over at the bunny farm
1. Chapter 1

Shockwave surveyed the gathered Autobot cadets with disinterest. They were all so eager, so young and idealistic. Fools, the lot of them. Buying into the Autobot propaganda, living large, luxurious lives, never thinking about those who suffered…. well, it didn't matter; he had a job to do, and he would do it well. He wasn't Megatron's top spy for nothing. Getting into a position of power, preferably in the Intelligence Department, would be youngling's play. Still, he couldn't overlook these cadets. Useless though most of them were there were likely some that could become a threat if he wasn't careful.

His optics trailed over each individual cadet, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses. As he suspected, most weren't worth a second glance. There were some that warranted further study, but weren't likely to make it high enough to threaten him, and a select few who he could see being a real threat. There was a flashy red and gold mech painted with flames talking to a group of wannabes. He was loud and brash, but Shockwave could see his optics studying the others just as intently as the spy himself was. The young mech was clever, and good at hiding it. Shockwave made a mental note to watch that one.

There was also a couple, standing together, and a powerful one at that. The obnoxious, big chinned mech had his arm around a pretty yellow femme, holding her close as he boasted to hiss groupies. He was big, loud, and arrogant, but the Decepticon could see from the way he moved that he had the skills to back up his words. That spoke of previous training, meaning he was likely the son of a politician or some other big name Autobot, and the little femme was no slouch either. She was neither loud, nor crude, like her counterpart, but she held herself in a manner that also spoke of experience. Judging from the way she held court with the few other femmes, she was powerful and she knew it. Likely she would be the more dangerous one, given that where her partner was an in-your-face kind of mech, she would more likely use his shadow to manipulate in secret. Or, she would if she was either smart, or vicious, enough. Goody-goody Autobots weren't known for being smart.

Shockwave would have taken no further interest in the cadets behavior if not for the young mech standing in the corner. He was a gorgeous little thing, all lithe limbs and trim waist, stunning blue and red paint, and the prettiest lips Shockwave had ever seen. He was alone; he approached no one, and no one tried to approach him. He seemed fine with it, but after vorns of practice reading others, the Con could tell that the young mech was hurting; those expressive blue optics all but screamed it. The reason why was clear. The big chinned mech kept stage whispering nastily to the mechs around him, shooting the loner revolted glares as he did so. The femme ignored her partner, shooting the young mech a sympathetic glance, before turning back to her girls. Shockwave knew why; the power couple may appear to be somewhat ditzy, but one was smart, and the other was observant. They had both recognized the other as a _threat_, something that had to be belittled and put down before he could rise against them. It was obvious that the red and blue cadet had training, the way he held himself with confidence made that clear, but he also seemed to carry a quiet intelligence and determination. Mechs like that went far. Shockwave would know; he was one of them.

It was at that moment that his internal systems pinged him, having finished gathering the relevant data on the cadets from their files. Shockwave was disappointed with how easy they had been to hack – he'd been hoping for more of a challenge. He quickly scrolled through the information, placing names with the faces he saw around him. The flame painted mech was Hot Rod, the power couple were Sentinel and Elita. And the sweet mech in the corner, _that_ was Optimus. Even his name was powerful. Shockwave was surprised by the strong bolt of lust that shot through him. The third in command turned his attention back to his mission, deciding that there was no harm in attempting to gain allies, and if one of those allies happened to follow him back to the Decepticons, so much the better.

Optimus ached all over. He didn't show it as he moved through the dorms, not wanting to give anyone another reason to mock him. He waited until he was safely ensconced in his room before he allowed himself to sag. He didn't understand it; the bullying that is. At first it hadn't bothered him, but after nearly a vorn of being treated like slag it was beginning to get to him. He knew that Sentinel and Elita did not like him. He wasn't sure why, but it didn't matter. He had been polite and friendly when they had first approached outside the camp. So had they. He had been somewhat turned off by Sentinel's behavior, but he had done his best to not let it show. Given the politics he was used to dealing with as a ward of Senator Dropkick's home, he was quiet good at hiding his thoughts. But then, his mentor always did say that his optics gave him away when he wasn't concentrating on hiding his emotion. Well, whatever the reason, this had gone beyond childish and into bullying. It had driven all potential friends away from him. No one wanted to associate with Sentinel's victim. Not that Optimus thought of himself as one. He was evenly matched, if not slightly better, with the larger mech in hand and weapon combat, and his written work was graded as highest in the class. He had never gotten less than a perfect score; good grades were expected of him after all.

The young cadet flopped strutlessly down onto his berth, thinking about the day. It had been combat training against multiple opponents, and surprise surprise, Sentinel and his posse had volunteered to be his attackers. He had held out well, longer than anyone, he thought with some pride, but eventually they had gotten him on the ground and they hadn't let up. It wasn't until Long Arm stepped in and threatened to get the instructor that they had backed off. Long Arm had helped him up and gotten him to the medical station, lingering by the door until the nursebot had told him that Optimus would be fine and to return to class. The crane had, but not before shooting another concerned glance at him over his shoulder.

Optimus had noticed that Long Arm was the only other mech who didn't seem to give a damn about what Sentinel thought of him. He had this aura about him that almost seemed to say that he knew he was better than the blowhard, and he didn't give a frag about what Sentinel thought of him. Unfortunately, Long Arm was in the Intelligence Track, not the Combat Track like Optimus, so they didn't interact much. It was a shame, and Long Arm was actually very nice, and it was always interesting to converse with him. The cadet didn't know why Long Arm had been in the Sparring Room while they were practicing, but the truck was glad that he had. He could have gotten badly hurt before the instructor noticed otherwise.

The door chime startled him, and he nearly jerked off the berth. He caught his balance and stood, wincing as he joints cracked, and moved to answer the door. He was surprised to find Long Arm standing on the other side.

"Hello Optimus."

"Er, Hi Long Arm. Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to make sure that you are doing well. You took quite a beating today." Warmth flooded Optimus at that. It had been a long time since anyone had expressed care about his well being.

"Thank you for your concern. I am fine, just bruised a bit."

"Still you should not have had to suffer that. Why do you not tell anyone about their behavior?" Optimus moved aside, inviting Long Arm into his room. Long Arm entered, taking a seat on the berth.

"There is no need to. I do not want to cause unnecessary trouble, and I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." He could not help the defensiveness that crept into his tone. Long Arm smiled gently.

"Of course. I've seen you in combat, and I know how skilled you are. I also know how jealousy can encourage mechs and femmes into actions that could be a danger to you _and_ them. And they _are_ jealous of you Optimus." Optimus scoffed.

"What could they _possibly_ be jealous of?"

"You are skilled. You know you are. You would have to be a fool not to see it and I know that you are not a fool. Look, Optimus, most cadets have one or two qualities, three if they are lucky, that the Elite Guard is looking for. You are a model combat student, top of your class, brave, and determined. On top of that, you know when to fight and when to back off and negotiate. They say that the Magnus had all of those qualities too. The only other students who can match you are Sentinel and Elita, and they can only do so as Sentinel-and-Elita. On their own they are lacking. They know this, so they belittle you and mock you, trying to beat you down so that you don't get ahead of them. It makes you even more impressive when you get back up, and they don't like that." Optimus still looked disbelieving. The orns of torment had all but destroyed his self confidence and Long Arm knew it would take a long time to get him back up to the level he come in with.

"How do you know so much about our records and abilities? Pit, how do you even know how do they think?"

"I'm an intelligence mech, remember? It's my job to watch and learn, and to find information others would rather keep hidden. Part of that is understanding psychology." The intelligence cadet could see that Optimus desperately wanted to believe his words, but was still skeptical. Well, no matter, he knew that even if he didn't believe them, the words would still act as a balm on his shattered self confidence. He wouldn't push him anymore tonight; there was still plenty of time for that. "Well, I suppose I should go. I still have homework I need to finish tonight. I am glad that you are unharmed." He stood, making his way over to the door.

Optimus watched Long Arm, not wanting him to leave. He hadn't realized how much he had missed having someone to talk to until that moment. Still, it would be impolite to keep him from his studies.

"Thank you for visiting, I appreciate the concern." Long Arm noticed that the words were reluctant. Optimus didn't want him to go, it seemed. He paused at the door, turning back to the attractive young mech he had helped.

"Would you like to join me for lunch tomorrow?" A smile lit up the younger mech's face, transforming him from attractive to gorgeous.

"Sure, that would be great. Thank you."

"Alright, how about we meet at MacAdams after morning classes finish?"

"That works for me."

"Very well. I will see you tomorrow then, Optimus. Good night."

"Good night!" Outside his prey's room, Long Arm smirked at the apparent excitement in that reply. Perfect.

* * *

Thank you so much to my awesome beta, Kittona! She betaed all of this story, and I should never have taken so long to get these reposted. Thanks so much hun! (And she betaed What Lies in the Past. I forgot to add that, and must go do so immediately)


	2. Chapter 2

Long Arm smiled indulgently as Optimus chattered to him. They had met at the agreed time, and had found the bar to be filled with students. Luckily, a table had been free in the back, and the two had quickly claimed it. They had been slightly awkward at first, neither knowing quite what to say, but then Long Arm had asked Optimus about his goals and the younger mech, grateful for the opening, had grabbed it.

Optimus had actually wanted to be a saboteur, which was a slight surprise. Optimus was bigger than most mechs, and his choice of weapon was a battleaxe. Neither attribute really leant itself well to spying and sabotage. When Long Arm had pointed that out, Optimus had smiled and said that that simply gave him an advantage. The intelligence cadet had to admit that while Optimus was larger than most Autobots, he was lithe, and silent on his pedes. His hand to hand and weapons combat was graceful as well; it sometimes looked as though he was dancing. Long Arm also knew that Decepticons tended to be giants compared to Autobots, and while Optimus would be smaller than nearly all of them, he would look less out of place if he was caught spying than say, someone like that femme Megatron had needed in the first war, Arcee. It had been rather easy to mark her as a spy simply because of her build. But being a saboteur would actually be a very good option for Optimus.

"So why didn't you register in the Special Ops track?" Optimus' smile didn't fade, but his optics dimmed slightly.

"My mentor didn't think it was appropriate for a mech of my standing. He wants me to be a commander, and there hasn't been one in the last twelve thousand vorns who has not come out of the Combat Track. Ultra Magnus took the very classes I'm in."

"That's a shame. Just because there hasn't been one doesn't mean there won't be. Still, I've seen some of you classes in action, and I can tell that you're brilliant in them. You'll do well anywhere." A light blush dotted Optimus' faceplates.

"Thank you." Long Arm simply smiled.

"You know, it is possible to be in one track and take classes in another. You need electives right? So instead of taking The Art of Weaponry and Ancient Battle Tactics or another combat oriented elective, you could take An Introduction into Stealth, Basic Demolitions, or Metalleko. It can't hurt to have another combat style." Shockwave watched the emotions play out in Optimus' optics.

"I hadn't thought of that! But isn't it too late for me to enroll?"

"Not if you submit your request through the Intelligence Track. Special Ops is actually one of its subdivisions, and is isolated from administration rules. If the Head of the Program thinks you have what it takes then you can enroll, regardless of what the admission rules say. I can submit the request for you if you would like."

"O-oh, I don't want to trouble you."

"It's not a problem. I need to submit my own request anyway, so I'll just put yours in with mine." Intel bots that could double as Ops agents were in high demand, and Shockwave knew that he would be more likely to be promoted if he had a Double Track. The quicker that happened, the sooner he could go home.

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. You might want to finish your cube. Our break's almost over." Sheepishly, Optimus gulped down his cube.

"Sorry for talking about myself so much." Long Arm chuckled.

"You apologize a lot."Optimus started to apologize again, but caught himself.

"It's fine, Optimus, I enjoyed it. You are an engaging speaker. Shall we meet here next cycle, same time?" Optimus smiled shyly.

"I would like that."

"Very well. I'll bring you a copy of your Ops schedule. I have no doubt that you'll get in."

"See you next cycle!"

A decacycle later, Optimus' life could not have been more different. Long Arm met him every morning cycle and they walked to class together. Metalleko started early, long before most students even considered getting up. Optimus had found it difficult to adapt to the more fluid style at first, but once he had gotten used to it he found it to be very enjoyable. He and Long Arm were often partnered together, as they had both come from previous disciplines, and they would often incorporate aspects of their other styles into their sparring sessions. Optimus loved it, and it was easily his favorite class.

After Metalleko training, Long Arm went to an Intelligence class and Optimus headed to Combat History, which was basically lessons on the Great War, before he was off to Weapons Training, which ran until the mid day cycle. Sentinel had gotten progressively worse, and Elita wasn't much better. Optimus knew it was because before Metalleko he was on par with them in sparring. Now he was light years ahead of them, thanks both to his class and to having to adapt to Long Arm's unique style. The couple didn't care for that, and Elita especially disliked that he got to take extra classes. They often whispered about him being the instructor's pet and speculated on what he had done to get such privileges. Optimus tried to ignore them, but the insults hurt. He never let them see that though. He hated those classes and looked forward to his breaks, and the times he was able to meet Long Arm for a cube of energon. After the mid day cycle, the two had classes in Hacking and Infiltration, and then, Optimus had taken history again. He didn't get to enjoy it when he took it with his track, and he really did love the subject.

Optimus realized that he had no friends other than Long Arm. He also knew that he had been targeted from day one for being who he was. It didn't bother him that no one else wanted to hang out with him; he didn't like their stuffy and pompous attitudes and had no desire to even try to befriend them. They were pretentious and rude, and reminded him of the organic animals he had studied in Xenozoology at the academy. They were just like cattle, following whatever the lead cow did. He didn't like it. Long Arm was the only one who wasn't fake.

"Report, Shockwave."

"Yes, my lord. Training is going well. I do not doubt that I will be recruited to the Intelligence Department as soon as I "graduate". Soon after that, I will be able to move to the second phase of my mission."

"Excellent. And what of the recruits?"

"There are four worth watching. Hot Rod will undoubtedly make Prime. He is clever and resourceful, and mechs and femmes trust him easily. Sentinel-and-Elita are dangerous in combination. The mech has the brawn, and the femme has the intelligence. They are a powerful couple and could be problematic."

"See to it that they don't get the chance to become so. And the last recruit?"

"His name is Optimus. He has the potential to be the next Magnus; however he has been made the scapegoat of his track. The Power Couple identified him as a threat and they seek to ruin him. He has experienced Autobot cruelty, and is becoming disillusioned by it. He still clings to their pitiful ideals, but I am working to break him of that." Megatron looked interested.

"You believe he could be a Decepticon."

"I do."

"Interesting. But I know you too well, my friend. That is not your only reason for your interest in this mech."

"Indeed. I find myself attracted to him. He is quite pleasing to the optic, and he is intelligent company, something which I find myself lacking these cycles."

"Very well. Keep working Shockwave. I expect results before the next vorn. You may keep your pet project as long as he does not endanger The Cause."

"Thank you, Lord Megatron." The warlord cut the communication without responding. Shockwave slipped back into his Long Arm form, and lay back on his berth. Only a vorn to convince Optimus. Not a lot of time. Barely any at all in fact, given that he was so loyal. It was time to step things up.

* * *

Thank you so much to my awesome beta, Kittona!


	3. Chapter 3

Optimus frowned; he did _not_ want to be on this mission. Normally, he would have jumped at the chance to get off Cybertron, but this time he would have rather stayed behind. The reason? Sentinel and Elita. Originally, he had been assigned to a different mission. He, Long Arm, and another intel mech, Backdraft, had been assigned to scout a metalloid planet in another section of the galaxy. Their instructors had given them glowing recommendations, and they had been preparing for the trip for orns. But then someone (and Optimus had a good guess who) had complained about a Combat Track mech getting assigned to an intel mission, even if said mech was minoring in Intel. So Optimus had been reassigned to a bodyguard escort mission with his least favorite comrades.

They had managed to escort the client back to his home planet without conflict, but the young mech knew that it would not last. And sure enough, it hadn't. One their way back home they had passed an organic planet that was listed as highly dangerous. It was to be avoided. Of course, Sentinel and Elita wanted to explore. Optimus, knowing it was off limits, did not. His refusal did not deter the other two, and instead made them more determined. They left him on the ship and took a small shuttle down to the planet's surface. Optimus waited. Over a joor later they had yet to return, but Optimus wasn't worried. He knew that they would take their sweet time looking for the fabled ship full of energon that was said to have gone down on this planet.

He kept himself busy with the ship's readings, scanning and recording any data in the area. He was sure that Long Arm would like to study it; his friend was always poring over star charts and maps and claimed that there was no such thing as useless information. Even though it was likely that this area had already been previously documented, the Intel mech liked to study information directly from the source.

It took a while for the cadet to realize how much time had passed, but eventually he noticed. He started to get worried at the lack of communication from the surface. He may not like the two bots, but he didn't want anything bad to happen to them either. Optimus began to regret not going with them; maybe he could have kept them out of trouble. He ignored the little voice in his head (which sounded suspiciously like Long Arm) saying that it was not _his_ job to keep them out of trouble; Sentinel had been the commander of this mission, not him. He quickly brought up the computer's scanners and had them locate the tracking chips that were embedded in the wristbands that the couple had been wearing. He found them, but the signals were faint. He hadn't actually known that the signals could be anything but a strong beacon. Alarmed, he prepped the escape pod and programmed his destination as close as he could to the area where the computer had located his team. Just what had those morons done now?

It didn't take long to reach the planet. He touched down in a canyon and a deep scan of the area showed that it was home to a complex system of caves. He made his way to the opening of the nearest one, where the tracking signals seemed to be coming from. Activating his headlights he made his way into the cavern.

It was immediately obvious that there was something inside the cave as he saw some kind of silvery material clinging to the walls. The smell was foul, like something was decaying. It seemed to permeate from the very walls of the place. And he saw the tracks of… something all over the rocky walls and he heard the faint patter of leathery pedes following him. He did his best not to let his pursuers know that he knew they were there. Intel rule number twelve: never let your enemies know that you found them. They are more likely to mess up if they believe you to be ignorant of their location.

Keeping his head down, the young mech followed the path deeper into the cavern, taking note of the shadowy bodies that tailed him. He was startled when the path abruptly ended and he found himself standing in an enormous, glowing cavern. He could tell that the glow came from the hundreds upon hundreds of energon cubes spilling from the damaged ship nestled against the far wall. That was not what held his attention, however. The two grey forms caught in an organic web did. They were wrapped in clear, sticky thread, and beads of pink energon dripped down from the puncture marks all over their bodies, staining their grey forms pink. Horrified, Optimus drew his battle axe, intending to cut them down. He never got the chance: his stalkers attacked.

When asked later, Optimus could not recall much of the battle. The _things_ that had attacked him had large, spherical bodies with many legs. Beady optics followed his every movement, and vicious fangs snapped at him. He might hack one down, but ten would replace it, seemingly out of no where... He remembered using his grappling hooks to get out of the cave, but the organic creatures climbed after him. He didn't remember setting off an explosion -he was told that he fired a shot from his blaster into the pile of energon cubes- but it had made the creatures go away. He had absolutely no recollection of the flight home, nor of the official enquiry that he was immediately sent to. He had a gut feeling though, that it had gone very badly. No, the first thing he remembered clearly was Long Arm waiting in his quarters when he returned.

The larger mech had stood, crossed the room in three strides, and pulled Optimus into a tight embrace. Optimus never stopped to wonder how Long Arm had known that something had gone wrong. He simply allowed himself to be cocooned in the warm, safe feeling of comfort that his friend provided. For a long while they stood in silence, Optimus sagged against Long Arm. He did not cry, or show any real emotion. He tried to grieve for his comrades, but found he could not. He could grieve for the lives wasted, but he honestly could not find it in himself to care that the two who had tormented him so were gone. The closest he came to regretting their deaths as his peers, was regret that he could not save them. He was disgusted with himself, as he knew that Autobots treasured all life. He stood there, wrapped in his friend's embrace, trying to mourn for Sentinel and Elita. Eventually he gave up, and allowed himself to be guided to his berth, where he settled down next to the crane.

"I'm a horrible mech," he whispered after a while. Long Arm simple tightened his grip, as though trying to protect him from an unseen foe.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Optimus did. He told Long Arm the whole story, as much as he could remember. His anger, fear, frustration and regret, the horror that comes with the first time seeing death, it all came pouring out. All through it, Long Arm listened and allowed the younger mech to rage. Optimus talked until he was completely drained; his lithe form slumped against that of his friend.

"And do you know what the worst part of it is? I don't even really care that they're gone. I mean, I feel bad that I couldn't save them, and I'm sorry that they died, but there's this little part of me that says they deserved it. They knew the planet was off limits, but they were always doing stuff like that. It was like they had something to prove. Does that make me a horrible mech?" The crane pulled the younger cadet up so that they were facing each other.

"No Optimus. Sentinel and Elita were absolutely horrible to you. They abused you – and yes, it was abuse – and they were arrogant and needlessly cruel to others as well. Honestly, I am amazed that you don't feel _relief_ that they are gone. That makes you different from other victims, who might be filled with joy. You regret, Optimus. That is more than I would have done." His response calmed Optimus. "Rest now. You've had a long day." He smiled as the younger mech murmured softly in reply; within moments the young truck former was in recharge. Settling in more firmly beside the Autobot, Shockwave too powered down his systems.

It wasn't difficult to determine what had woken him. Optimus was thrashing in his recharge, fighting with an enemy that Shockwave could not see. It wasn't surprising. Gentle shaking did nothing to rouse the terrified mech, and neither did calling his name. With no other choice left, the Decepticon spy untangled one arm and slapped Optimus hard. It was enough to free him from the grips of his nightmare, but it took a moment for the young mech to become fully aware of his surroundings. Cheeks plates heated with embarrassment as Optimus processed the situation.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You have no reason to be. I should be apologizing for hitting you."

"Oh, er, its fine I guess. I don't think you could have woken me up otherwise. I'm pretty hard to pull out of recharge at times."

"I noticed. Are you going to be ok, Optimus? That was some nightmare you were having." Optimus was silent for a long while.

"I don't know. I keep seeing those things… they _ate_ them, Long Arm! They could have done that to me! And I know the council is going to blame me for this. I couldn't stop them, but maybe I should have tried harder, or called for help, or _something_. I'm scared. I don't know what's going to happen to me and I, I just… I want to forget, even for a little while. But I don't know how." Long Arm's voice was quiet when he spoke.

"I may have a way to help you forget Optimus, but I understand if you don't want to do it. I promise I won't take offense, especially after what you've been through."

"What is it?" Instead of answering, Long Arm bent down. He moved slowly, giving Optimus plenty of time to pull away if he wanted to. He didn't. Firm lips pressed gently against Optimus' keeping the kiss chaste. Optimus could hardly believe it. He had been in love with his friend since the beginning, and now here he was, kissing him. He moaned softly, plump lips parting just enough to allow Long Arm's glossa to slip between them. Long Arm took advantage, coaxing Optimus' own glossa to play with his own, even as he tasted all of the secrets of the Autobot's sweetly delicious mouth. The spy had the feeling that Optimus was a taste that he could easily become addicted to.

The kiss grew more passionate as Long Arm maneuvered his little lover onto his back. He pulled away slightly, but Optimus chased him, kissing him hungrily as he gave himself over to the sensations wracking through his body. This was a dream come true, and he didn't want it to end. Long Arm was extremely attractive, as well as a kind, caring person. He had never thought that the older cadet would return his feelings.

Shockwave pulled away from the kiss, taking a moment to stare down at the mech below him. Optimus was gorgeous, spread out below him for his pleasure, lips swollen with kisses, a faint blush staining his cheeks enticingly as he gasped for breath. He was tempted to just take Optimus right then, but he would not force him. That would destroy all of the trust the sweet young mech had for him. Instead he asked,

Do you want this Optimus?" The hand stroking over a blue codpiece made it perfectly clear what this was.

"Yes!" Optimus gasped breathlessly. The silver mech purred inwardly. Victory was near. If things went according to plan, then very soon Optimus would never leave his side. "Please! Long Arm I need…oh!" For the rest of the night Optimus did not speak. He just screamed.

* * *

Thank you so much to my awesome beta, Kittona!


	4. Chapter 4

"Cadet Optimus, you stand before this council accused of negligence resulting in the deaths of Cadet Sentinel and Cadet Elita One. Do you have anything to say in your defense?" Unforgiving optics stared down at him. He knew they had already decided that he was guilty. This defense hearing was a sham. Rage burned through him; he had done _nothing_ wrong! It had been an accident. One that he had _nothing_ to do with. So why was he being charged with their deaths?!

"Yes, Councilmech. Sentinel and Elita's deaths were a tragic accident. But they were just that. An accident. I followed protocol to the letter when they decided to visit the organic planet. They, of their own choice, disregarded the rules that were put in place to keep us safe. They ignored me when I warned them against their excursion. It upsets me greatly," the lie was flawless, "that they died, but it was not caused by _my_ actions."

"No," one of the mechs said, "it was the result of your _inaction_. Had you called for assistance and gotten to them earlier they might still be alive." Optimus gritted his dentals, wanting to protest. Had he gone down to the planet's surface, he likely would have died with them. He wouldn't have been able to fight effectively while protecting the two of them. Besides, they hadn't called for help. He hadn't – couldn't have – known that they were in trouble, so there was no need to call for the Guard. He held his glossa though, lest he get in more trouble for being argumentative. He was beginning to think that Long Arm had been right.

He had come out of recharge to find himself pinned to the berth beneath his lover's arm, pleasantly sore. That night cycle had been amazing. Long Arm had been so tender and passionate. The interfacing had been better than he could have ever imagined. It was made even better by the fact that Long Arm had stayed when they were finished and had held him through the rest of the night.

They had onlined early and spent some time exchanging kisses and caresses. But Optimus could tell that something was troubling the other mech. When he had asked what was wrong, Long Arm had been reluctant to answer.

"It's just that… two powerful cadets died Optimus. Their families and the council aren't going to be happy, I fear that they will blame you and punish _you_ for their stupidity."

Optimus had said that as long as he was honest they couldn't possibly do anything. He'd neglected to mention that he wasn't actually certain about that.

Long Arm had sighed.

"I'm not so sure about that. The Autobots are a business, Optimus. Yes, the defend Cybertron and enforce the laws, but remember that Instructor Calipso said that they are very much about politics as well. The Guard makes money just like any business, and most of the leaders are elected. So is the Academy Council. If there is enough pressure on them to see someone convicted, they might do it; they won't want to jeopardize their seats of power by refusing. I don't want anything to happen to you." Optimus had smiled, acting more comfortable then he felt; inwardly remembering Calipso's lectures on the intricacies of Autobot politics, and how Intelligence mechs and femmes always had to be aware of the games going on below the surface.

"I'll be fine."

Now, facing the cold, hard faces of the Autobot Council - not the Academy Council, which was supposed to preside over his hearing -, he knew that he was going to be anything _but_ fine.

"Cadet Optimus, this council finds you guilty of negligence resulting in the death of two of your peers. You are hereby expelled from the Academy. You are sentenced to eighty-four vorns of spacebridge repair duty as punishment. Once you have completed your sentence you may re-enroll in the Academy. Dismissed!" Optimus felt as though he had been sucker-punched. Expelled? Repair crew? He barely noticed anything as he drifted from the Great Hall into the reception area. Long Arm was waiting anxiously for him. The larger mech said nothing; merely took Optimus by the hand and led him back to his quarters.

Settling himself on the berth, Long Arm pulled the shocked mech into his arms and cradled him against his chassis.

"What happened?" He asked quietly.

"Expulsion." Optimus' voice was toneless. "And I've been sentenced to spacebridge repair duty." Long Arm tightened his hold on his lover, inwardly hissing. He knew that Optimus was devastated. "I'm to re-enroll as a cadet when my sentence is complete." Optimus didn't say it, but he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to join the Elite Guard now. He was being punished for a crime that he had not committed. Besides, by the time he returned to the camp, Long Arm would have graduated. It had been hellish before his lover befriended him, and he was not naïve enough to believe that it wouldn't be just as bad a second time without him. Especially with this conviction hanging over his head. Maybe he could get a job as a freelancer or something instead. But that would still require more training than he had.

Shockwave was surprised. He had never heard of the Academy allowing someone back in once they had been expelled. So, apparently, the Autobots weren't completely blind: they could see that Optimus had the potential to be great. Shockwave was disgusted; he knew exactly what they were trying to do. Optimus had proven himself to be a free thinker when he wasn't being self conscious. He would ask questions until he got a satisfactory answer, and didn't believe blindly in the Autobot ideals like all the other cadets. Shockwave had been surprised to find that he actually agreed with some of the Decepticon ideals, although Optimus didn't know that. He simply formed ideas based on his experiences. The Council didn't like that, and were seeking to correct the perceived undesirable trait.

"You know what they're doing, don't you, Optimus? They see the same potential and power in you that I do. They want to harness it, to break you and mold you into their idea of a perfect Autobot. They've punished you partly because of the politics, but also because if they send you on a hated assignment, and then let you off vorns early, they believe that you will be grateful to them and willing to do what they say to repay them. It's an old psychological tactic." Optimus scowled.

"They think I'll be grateful because they saved me from a punishment that they gave to me? Are they really that thick?" Shockwave chuckled.

"Yes. You are very free spirited Optimus, and you have a passion in you that I have rarely seen before. They want to control you because of it." It was true. Over the course of their friendship, Shockwave had noticed small, seemingly unimportant changes in Optimus. Besides his willingness to question authority, he had regained some of his confidence, and he cared much less about what other mechs thought of him. He had completely disregarded his mentor's plans for him, and cut the mech out of his life when he had struck Optimus for going into a Double Track as a Combat and Intelligence Officer. He had cried the whole night in Long Arm's arms, but he hadn't let anyone else see how much it had hurt him; Optimus had made his decision and stood strong, not giving in to the mech when he tried to - force Optimus to - make amends. He was still prone to bouts of insecurity now and then, and could be hurt by cruel words at times, but Shockwave knew that he could overcome those weaknesses with time. Unfortunately, time was something that they were running out of. Megatron's deadline was approaching, and Optimus would be leaving soon. But perhaps there was a way… it would be extremely risky, and could possibly endanger the cause. However, he was sure that Optimus was more loyal to him than the Autobots, and even if he wasn't, he would be somewhat bitter about their treatment of him. He wouldn't run to them with the information he was about to share just yet, which would give Shockwave time to think of an alternative should the worst happen. And…he didn't want to lose Optimus. He cared greatly for the younger mech, even though he couldn't admit it out loud. Besides, Optimus was vulnerable right now, having been shocked and betrayed by his cause. He was susceptible now more than ever to nudges to give up that thin loyalty, and to perhaps even give it to someone else. Pressing a kiss to the back of Optimus' helm, he asked;

"Do you trust me, Optimus?" Surprised, he turned to look at Long Arm.

"Yes, of course I do."

"Good. I have something to show you. Keep in mind, what you are about to see has no effect on our friendship, nor will it change anything unless you want it to." Puzzled, Optimus was about to ask what he meant, but Long Arm stood up. He initiated his transformation sequence, but instead of shifting into his altmode, he changed into another mech entirely… Within moments, Long Arm was gone and in his place stood Shockwave, Decepticon Lieutenant. Optimus' first instinct was panic; a Decepticon was in his room! But… this was Long Arm, his friend and lover. Long Arm, who had been there for him through all of the abuse and scorn. The one who had helped him regain his confidence after it had been smashed into tiny pieces, who _cared_ for him. On the other servo, Long Arm had lied to him. Pit, Long Arm didn't even exist! Taking a deep intake, Optimus said,

"I know who you are, and I can guess why you are here. So my only real question is this: what do you want with me?" Shockwave was somewhat surprised that Optimus was so calm and he wondered if the mech was in shock. He debated how much to tell Optimus. Deciding that the truth was the best option, he shifted slightly so that he was blocking the door.

"As you can guess, I was sent here as a spy. It is my mission to gain a high level position in the Autobot Command chain. From my first cycle here, I could see that you had potential, Optimus. I could see that you were a threat to everyone else. You impressed me. I will admit that was the original reason I approached you. I was looking for an ally, but you are so much more than that to me now." He approached the berth slowly.

"Why…why tell me this? Why endanger your mission? I could ruin it for you, tell someone, or someone could overhear."

"These rooms are soundproof. And you won't tell, will you Optimus?" He pulled the younger mech back into his arms.

"…No," Optimus whispered, sagging against his lover. Shockwave chose not to tell Optimus that if he had turned out to be a threat, he would have had to put him in stasis and send him to the Nemesis until he could get back and persuade the young mech to join them. He didn't want to examine his reluctance to kill the Autobot too closely.

"Good." Lifting up the smaller mech, Shockwave climbed onto the berth. Exhausted, Optimus let his lover maneuver him into a comfortable position. He thought that he should be angry or disgusted that he had been tricked – lied to, really – by a Decepticon, but, in truth, Shockwave had been honest with him about everything else. He was angrier about his unjust punishment. Not only was it completely unfair, but he would be sent away from Cybertron for long periods of time. He would be sent away from Shockwave.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I don't want to leave. I don't know anything about repairing space bridges, and I don't want to get behind in my training. Even if I don't know what kind of job I can get, I want to keep doing what I love. And I don't want to leave you," the last part came out in a near whisper. He didn't know if he loved Lon-Shockwave, but he thought he might.

Shockwave's mind was racing. He knew Optimus had to leave. But as soon as he gained a high enough position in Intelligence, he could call him back; say he needed the young mech's talents or something. But until then, Optimus was right. He needed to keep training. The Autobots wouldn't allow it, and not being allowed to train or study would grate on Optimus.

"We'll work something out." Optimus nodded, and snuggled into Long Arm's side.

"Ok."

~o0o~

"My Lord, two powerful cadets, Sentinel and Elita perished on an organic world. Their peer, Optimus, was charged with their deaths. He has been expelled and sentenced to space bridge duty."

"_Your_ Optimus?"

"Yes, Lord Megatron. He is angry, and this event has eroded a great deal of his loyalty to the Autobots. He is not yet wholly convinced that the Decepticon cause is right, but he shares some of our ideals. He will be willing to listen."

"And what good is he now that he has been kicked out of the Autobot Academy?" Megatron looked unimpressed.

"They will allow him back in after he has completed his sentence." That caught Megatron's interest.

"Really? What is so special about this cadet that those old fools would be willing to break their own rules?"

"It is difficult to explain, Lord Megatron. The potential he has is amazing. Given the chance, he will be a great warrior. Possibly on par with, or better than, the Magnus." Shockwave was in no way biased. Regardless of what Optimus thought about himself, Shockwave could see the raw, untapped power in the mech.

"I see. I don't care how you manage it, Shockwave, but see to it that he ends up on the Bega Repair Crew. Oil Slick and Cyclonus have temporarily joined that crew to gain more information on the space bridge network." Although it sounded like a simple mission, judging from Megatron's nearly invisible smirk, the two were being punished. Likely, one of Oil Slick's experiments had gone wrong, and either Strika or Megatron was punishing him. Cyclonus had probably been dragged into it by his lover. "They will ensure that your…friend will be taught our ways. He had better be worth the trouble, Shockwave."

"It will be as you command, My Lord. I have no doubt that he will be."

"Good." Megatron's image cut out. Shifting back into his Long Arm guise, he turned back to the berth where Optimus still recharged. Climbing into the berth, he watched the mech who had captivated him so easily. Before Optimus, Shockwave had been _sure_ that he would never find a mate. His life and loyalty belonged to the cause. They still did, but he found that his loyalty had also extended to Optimus, who had managed to burrow his way into the proud mech's spark. Perhaps he should thank the Council; by expelling Optimus the Autobots had given Shockwave a golden opportunity to facilitate Decepticon training for his lover.

Soon, Optimus would be an Autobot in name only. Shockwave could hardly wait.

* * *

Thank you so much to my awesome beta, Kittona!


	5. Chapter 5

Oil Slick stalked down the _Titan's_ corridors. He was bored out of his mind, this punishment was tedious, both in the monotony of the job, and the fact that he had to deal with idiotic Autobots. In the scientist's opinion, the punishment did _not_ fit the crime.

"It's like they think I was _trying_ to kill Spittor. How was I supposed to know the _fool_ would actually _drink_ the Beryllium?"

"You knew full well that he would when you baited him," a dry voice said from behind him. Smirking, Oil Slick turned to face his lover.

"So maybe I did," he purred. "But if you knew that I was at fault, why did you defend me?" The stoic flyer had gotten into a heated - for him, anyway- argument with General Strika about it. All that had happened was that Cyclonus had ended up on the same punishment detail.

"A temporary lapse in sanity. It will not happen again, I assure you."

"Uh huh." Retracting his helmet, Oil Slick kissed his mate. "So, when's the new kid getting here?"

"He will be at the station when we dock." Untangling his lover's arms from around his neck, Cyclonus moved past him. Oil Slick jumped when talented fingers cupped his aft. Whirling around, the scientist stared after the disappearing seeker. He pouted.

"Tease."

~o0o~

Optimus watched as the _Titan_ came into port. Mechs and femmes worked in tandem to bring the rather unimpressive ship into its docking station. The young mech hadn't expected anything grand, despite the ship's name, but the old clunker looked like it was coming apart at the seams… Pit, he couldn't even tell what color it was supposed to be, the thing was covered in so much grime.

The mechs disembarking were similarly unimpressive. They trudged off the ship, backstruts hunched, faceplates weary. None of them looked like they had seen a medic in vorns. Optimus could see the defeated look in their optics. He vowed to never, no matter what happened, let himself be broken like these mechs had.

"You Optimus?" The ex-cadet was startled by the voice, but didn't let it show. First impressions were important, after all. Turning, he took a good look at the speaker. While this mech was larger than the others he'd seen come off the ship, he was similarly unimpressive. The mech was bulky, but his plating was scraped and chipped, and his optics were dull. He was painted a dull brown that reminded Optimus of dried regurgitated energon. At least he _thought_ it was paint, and not filth, but he couldn't really tell.

"Yes, sir. Optimus Prime, reporting for duty as ordered, sir." The mech nodded.

"Steelstrife, Captain of the _Titan_. Ya got any experience working with space bridges?"

"No sir." Streelstrife sighed.

"'Course not, they never do," he muttered. "Well, listen up real good kid; learn fast or get off my ship. I ain't got no time to be sparklin'sittin' ya, and ain't nobody else gunna do it either. I'm gunna stick ya with a coupla mechs who ya will room with, and they'll show ya the ropes for the first few cycles. After that yer on yer own. And nobody here cares that you got to keep your fancy title, got it?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"And cut the military slag. This ain't the Elite Guard."

"Um, ok." Optimus decided he really didn't like this mech. Sure, he was glad that he wouldn't have to stand on formalities, but, plainly speaking, the Captain was a fragger. He decided to do his best to spend as little time as he could with the mech. He got the feeling that the Captain would prefer it that way too.

Two more mechs stepped off the ship; a dark flyer who may have been a navy blue, and a tall, slender mech with an oddly shaped helm. Optimus wondered what function it could possibly serve. Steelstrife shouted for the mechs.

"Twister, Jumpstart, get over here!" The two mechs obeyed, and a moment later Optimus was standing with who he assumed would be his roommates. "This is Optimus. Optimus, these two will show you around. You bunk with them. We have two cycles before we lift off, so I suggest you get settled in. You two are free to do what you want once he's settled in. And try not to kill _this _one." Jumpstart's smile and appraising gaze sent a shiver up the ex-Autobot's backstruts.

"We'll try, sir."

Optimus followed Twister and Jumpstart through the corridors of the small ship. Jumpstart chattered to him about the workings of the ship as they walked, telling him about the size of the crew, - Optimus' addition made seven - some of the places they would travel to, and a bit about the work involved.

"I hope you have some type of weapon, kid, or tool, because you're going to spend your time removing rocks from space bridges. The actual repairs are left to the science guys." Jumpstart smiled that creepy grin again, the one that made the Prime feel as though the other mech wanted to eat him. He wondered if the Captain had been kidding when he implied that these two had killed their last trainee. He didn't think they would still be here, instead of the Stockades, but he wasn't willing to bet on that.

Twister stopped in front of a door, and entered the code in the access pad. Jumpstart ushered Optimus into the room, and Twister followed them inside. The room was nothing spectacular; right across from the door was a shabby window with a rickety desk below it. To his left was a double berth and a small table, which had little knickknacks scattered across the top. To his right, was a single berth and an empty dresser both of which were clearly his.

"Alright, obviously, that one is yours, and yes, we are a mated couple, so if you don't like it, recharge in the hall. I don't really care. Shifts start at 0600 solar and run until 1800 solar. Morning rations are served at 0500 solar. If you are late, you don't eat.

"Now, you stay here and do whatever it is you normally do. Me and Twister are going to take advantage of our down time off the ship." The leer on Jumpstart's face told Optimus exactly what the pair were going to be doing.

"Don't touch anything of ours. We'll see you in two cycles." The smaller mech grabbed his flyer mate's hand and began dragging him to the door. Just before Twister was pulled out of the room he stopped and turned back to face the young mech.

"Optimus Prime." Optimus looked at Twister. It was the first time he had heard the mech speak. "The last time we had a trainee he failed miserably and, as such, was punished. Long Arm has expressed that he would be most displeased should you meet the same fate. I do not tolerate slackers, Prime. Training begins in three cycles, 1900 solar. Do _not_ be late." The flyer let his mate pull him out of the room. Optimus stared at the closed door before moving to claim his berth. It was going to be a long few vorns.

* * *

Thank you so much to my awesome beta, Kittona!


	6. Chapter 6

Optimus dodged the chain strike, arching his back into a deep bend. He twisted his body, neatly avoiding the twin swords coming at him from the side. The young mech touched down only to push off again, narrowly avoiding the chains as his instructors attempted to pin him down. Pulling out his grapplers, he tried to tangle Oil Slick in them, wanting to keep him distracted so that he could focus on taking out Cyclonus first.

His Decepticon instructors had gotten him up early, long before the rest of the crew, as they had done every cycle of the fifteen vorns he had been stationed on board the _Titan_. It had surprised him at first to find out his cabin mates were Decepticon spies; Shockwave must have pulled some strings to get him this assignment. He didn't know how, as the mech was posing as a cadet who had minimal pull with the Autobot Council, but he had learned not to underestimate his lover.

The early orns were the only time they had to train in combat. Other lessons, such as Decepticon etiquette, could be done subtly, even with others present, but physical combat was harder to hide. Still, they managed, and Optimus had improved drastically. He was still far behind his instructors, but the younger mech loved it all the same. He could see the difference in skill when he compared himself to where he used to be, and it filled him with pride. He still had his aft handed to him every session, but he had fewer dents every time and it took longer to take him down. On top of that, Oil Slick was a master of Metalleko, so he was able to continue his training in that as well. Shockwave would be proud. He was not yet equal to his partner, but he would be.

Oil Slick escaped his grapplers with a twisting sweep just as Cyclonus slammed the butt of one blade into the side of Optimus's helm. Dazed, the red and blue mech stumbled back; he tried to regain his equilibrium, but Oil Slick's chain whip wrapped around his legs and jerked him off his pedes. Before he could regain his footing the twin blades were placed across his throat. Optimus went still, admitting defeat. After a moment Cyclonus stepped back and sheathed his blades.

"Better." _But not good enough_. "You are excused from your duties. Oil Slick and I will cover for you." Optimus blinked in surprise. He had never been given a break before. Oil Slick leered at him.

"You'll be too busy to deal with Autoscum, Opy." Optimus didn't flinch. It had bothered him at first; the casual, derogatory way they spoke about his people. As time went on, he had come to accept it, and occasionally even caught himself thinking the same things about his crewmates. He had been ashamed of himself at first, but really, these mechs were awful! They were a broken mess, but still they felt so entitled. Frag, all they did was complain about how they were above their menial assignments. And then there was the moaning about the unfairness of life, when mechs like the Decepticons had been forced from their homes on Cybertron because they fought to gain a better standard of life! Yes, Optimus was aware his instructors were feeding him propaganda. The difference was they didn't hide it behind pretty lies. Optimus himself had experienced Autobot cruelty first hand, and was finding it easier every cycle to relate to his trainers.

"Busy doing what?" The Oil Slick smirked. Optimus often thought that the cyberninja had only two expressions: smirking and leering.

"You'll see. Go back to our room and get cleaned up." The former cadet nodded.

"Yes sir." Knowing they were still watching - judging - the young mech did his best to blend into the shadows as he had been taught. If he was caught out of his quarters before curfew ended they wouldn't bail him out. Luckily, he made it to the room with no problems. Slipping into the cleanser, he began to wash away the joor's grime. He didn't want to face whatever was making the Decepticons so smug covered in filth. Optimus cleaned himself quickly and efficiently, not wanting to stand under the freezing spray any longer than he had to. Warm cleanser was a luxury he sorely missed.

Stepping out of the washracks, the truckformer noticed a small padd sitting on top of his berth. It hadn't been there before he'd gotten into the cleanser, but he wasn't worried; there were only two other mechs capable of disabling the traps on the door. Picking it up, he couldn't help but gasp softly. It was a communication padd. He would be able to see whoever was going to contact him. Optimus knew who he wanted it to be.

A small eternity later the screen lit up, indicating that he had a call. He tapped the screen, and Long Arm's visage appeared. Optimus froze. It had been so long since the last time he had spoke to his lover.

"Hi," he said, almost shyly.

"Optimus," Shockwave's voice was warm. "It is good to see you."

"And you. I... I've missed you." he dreamed about him sometimes. Of lazy days lounging together on the berth, of training together, of meaningless chatter and debates on the meaning of life.

"And I you. But you are doing very well. I am proud of you." A soft, warm feeling flared in the younger mech's spark, and a faint blush stained his cheekplates.

"How have you been?" He asked.

"Quite well. I have been promoted to second-in-command of Autobot Intelligence. I work under Warhawk." No one else would have been able to pick up the distaste in the Decepticon's voice.

"Congratulations! So you are one step closer to your goal." To anyone listening it would sound as though Long Arm wanted to be Head of Intelligence. It was true, partially.

"Yes. How are you faring? I know your sentence has not been easy." _In more ways than one_.

"It could have been worse. I seem to have made some friends." _I can't wait to get out of here_. They continued chatting amicably, every word sounding like idle chatter to an outsider, but every sentence had a double meaning. It was fun to spar with Shockwave like this. It would be better if they could do so in person.

"Oh! I have news! The Autobot Council has reviewed you case and deemed your original sentence too harsh. You are to be released from duty effective at the completion of your current assignment." Blue optics flared in surprise. He had expected to be stuck with this crew for at least another twenty vorns.

"That's... that's great!"

"Unfortunately I cannot send you the details right now as they are still being encrypted. I will personally ensure that they reach you, however." _Plans have changed. Stay near Oil Slick and Cyclonus. _

"I'll be ready." _I will._

* * *

Thank you so much to my awesome beta, Kittona!


End file.
